Sympathy For The Devil
by DarkTygerWolf
Summary: "L is dead. Well, he should be. But for some reason, he ended up getting thrown into another reality. Our reality. We know he's going to try to stop Kira - again - but he won't be able to do so without our help. So he'll have to ally himself with my little human friend Angel, who's keeping more than a few secrets - me being one of them. Heh... This should be entertaining." -Legion


I hope you guys like. This has been bouncing around in my head for a while now.

Of course, I don't own Death Note.

And just 'cause I can, all the chapters are named after songs, the majority of which are by Linkin Park. Go ahead and look 'em up if you want.

* * *

**Sympathy For The Devil**

* * *

**Chapter One: Points Of Authority **(Linkin Park)**  
**

* * *

Tick.

Everyone has a number, a time, a clock. An expiration date, drawing ever closer.

Tock.

We know. It's a painful, heavy burden, but someone must bear it. It's terrible, knowing when the lives of those around you will end.

Tick.

He sees only numbers. Never names. He is not a god of death, no, not like the thing that has always been by his side.

Tock.

He has a note, but he doesn't kill people. That thing is hidden far from him - so, so very far - so there is no temptation.

Tick.

He can see their lives passing by. Nothing but numbers. Dates. He's good with numbers. He has to be, or nothing makes sense. It started after his parents were killed, but he likes to think it's because of his eyes. His strange, fiery eyes, with their massive pupils blotting out the irises, and making him weak to harsh lights. Mini eternal solar eclipses contained within those orbs.

Tock.

He's strong for them, his parents. They'd want him to be, he tells me. Strong, smart, and capable of handling everything life throws at him. It doesn't matter that he's silent. It doesn't matter that he has to wear over-sized hoodies to even begin to feel okay, to feel safe. He'll never be safe, he knows, even here at this place, this school. Wammy's. And that's fine, he doesn't expect to be safe. He doesn't expect to be 'okay'.

Tick.

With what we know, nothing will every be okay. He can't get close to anyone, knowing that he'll lose them. He'll lose everyone eventually. Time always runs out.

Tock.

And sometimes...

Tick.

Sometimes he looks at himself in the mirror, stare at that ominous blank, empty space above his head and wonders...

Tock.

...If that day will be his last.

* * *

L groaned as he sat up, rubbing his eyes, his black hair spiking out haphazardly in all directions. He absently rubbed his right wrist, relishing in the fact that the handcuff wasn't there-

He froze.

The handcuff...

It all came rushing back at once. He was dead. Light was Kira. He was dead. Shinigami exist. He was dead. He was DEAD.

L swallowed hard. If he was dead... If he was dead, then where was he? He got out of the bed he had apparently been sleeping in, bare feet making contact with cold wooden floor, and began his examination of the room. It looked suspiciously familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

Out if the corner of his eye he saw movement and turned toward it. Oh, just a mirror. Funny, he'd gone from fearing nothing to jumping at his reflection.

Wait...

He moved closer, his thumb on his lips. He looked... different. Younger. The bags under his eyes were less prominent. He blinked a few times, unsure what to make of this new development. Eventually L moved away from the mirror and perched on the bed, sitting as he usually did, knees drawn up to his chest.

What the hell was going on?

He was dead, that much was obvious. He remembered being killed. And then he woke up... here. After a careful assessment of his surroundings and a thorough wracking of his brain, he was ninety six percent certain that he was at Wammy's. But what was he doing here? When he was eightteen - he was guessing on the age, only sixty three point eight percent certain as to how old he was now - he was doing important things. Like solving murders and the like. So it couldn't be that he had somehow gone back in time or was reliving old memories before he finally passed into nothingness. So... perhaps an alternate reality of some sort. Yes. That was a possibility. Seventy nine percent likely. The majority. Maybe...

L sighed softly and stood once more after glancing at the clock. It was nearly nine. He may as well get out of the room, at the very least. Besides, he was hungry.

L made his way through the halls, meticulously mapping it out in his mind so he wouldn't get lost on his way back to his room. Everything felt odd about the situation. He hoped that feeling would maybe eventually come to pass, but he wasn't counting on it.

* * *

Angel was good at lying. He took deceit and trickery and ran with it, taking it to the next level. He was good at hacking, too. Good at reading people. He was good at a lot of things.

And yet... he wasn't so great at being his namesake. An angel. A savior. He wasn't a savior, in fact more often than not he ended up getting people hurt. Hence why he was here. No one else would take him, and honestly... he couldn't blame them. He was nothing if not dangerous. But here... here, at least, people didn't seem to care. They didn't think it odd that someone who is legally able to be out on his own is unable to do that, to support himself.

Angel tried that once. He ended up getting caught siphoning money from bank accounts, and got sent here per request of some no doubt insane individual who thought him to be talented. Him, talented? Heh. He was good at things, not great. Hell, he'd gotten CAUGHT. That was about as not-good as someone could get, wasn't it?

But Angel wasn't going to complain, not much anyway. He had a roof over his head and food to eat and his own bed. It was a lot to process, really.

Angel pushed himself up and stretched, yawning, his black hair falling into his face, soft until it stabbed him in the eyes. Wincing, he pushed it away, revealing his bizarre eyes to the world - or, rather, the otherwise empty room - for just a little while. He got out of bed, barely registering the cold floor, and trudged into the bathroom, accidentally ramming into the doorframe as he entered. The force of the hit elicited a frustrated curse from his lips as he stepped back, furiously rubbing his eyes, which were already stinging due to the light streaming in through the window. He walked into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light, and closed the door. The bit of light filtering in from underneath the door is enough to light the room. Due to his odd eyes, he could see in the dark nearly as well as a normal person could during the day. This was occasionally incredibly useful.

But only occasionally.

Because built-in night vision that can't be turned off hurts like hell, and wearing sunglasses inside makes him seem like a dick.

Gods, he really can't win, can he?

He muttered something unintelligible and shrugged off his huge sweatshirt to reveal a surprisingly small but lean frame, the pale flesh marred by strangely-shaped burn scars. The sweatpants - also slightly too big - are next. After dutifully removing his clothes, he turned on the shower and stepped inside, the scalding water falling onto his back. Anyone else would've been burned.

But Angel wasn't anyone else.

He'd long since become desensitized to pain, especially in the forms of heat. He'd been burned so many times, he no longer cared. Besides, he's always painfully cold anyhow, so the water felt good on his freezing skin.

Who knows, maybe it would even raise his body temperature a bit. He wasn't counting on it, but it was a nice thought.

He tilted his head back into the stream of water, eyes closed, steam rising off his body. It's nice. Quiet. Comforting. So much so he wanted to stay in there forever. But, of course, the water eventually lost just a fraction of its warmth, and he immediately turned it off and got out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he dried himself off reasonably well and wrapped it around his slim waist.

That done, he hesitantly opened the bathroom door, shielding his eyes, and scurried over to the window to close the blinds and the curtains and do anything and everything within his power to stop the ungodly light from entering his room.

When he was finally finished, he was enveloped in darkness once more, and all the tension drifted from his body. He let out a soft breath of relief and focused on allowing his senses to readjust. He didn't need to see now, there was no light - natural or otherwise - to be seen here. He could rely on his other senses, those he tended to use the most anyhow. And suddenly, as he wandered the room, gathering clean clothes and putting said clothes on, he had an idea. No one has seen him yet. No one knows who he is. For all they know, he could be blind.

Blind... Yes... He liked the idea very, very much. It would be new for him, and he liked new. He enjoyed challenges. And this was going to be one hell of a challenge.

Angel hummed softly to himself and grabbed a black beanie, positioning it atop his head - thankfully his hair dried fast due to the extreme temperature of the water - and snatching up the pair of sunglasses with particularly dark lenses that rested on the nightstand. They were nothing special, really. He could get another pair anywhere. A certain individual said they made him look like a nerd, said they looked like standard 'nerd glasses' only instead of it being clear lenses they were shaded. But whatever. He couldn't care less what was thought of him.

He exited the room, fingering the key on the necklace roped around his neck, and locked the door. Couldn't be too careful.

His stomach grumbled, commanding him to go get food. Not yet though, not yet. He could wait. He wanted to get a look around first.

Besides, it wasn't as if he'd never gone without food before.

* * *

This Wammy's was different from the one L had been to in his world. He didn't know where anything was, and the hall he had last turned at had dumped him into the courtyard. Which appeared to be a sort of training grounds for hand-to-hand combat, swordplay, and archery all wrapped up in one neat little package.

"It's a lot to take in on the first day, I know."

The voice startled L with its familiarity, and he turned to see someone who he was surprisingly glad to see.

Matt.

He wanted to hug the kid, and that was saying a lot. He didn't display that kind of affection, not usually. But this had been a weird day, and he hadn't even been awake for an hour yet.

He didn't, however much he wanted to, though, because the boy in the striped shirt continued talking. And besides, that would've been... awkward.

"You'll get used to it eventually. Name's Matt, by the way." Matt said around his cigarette.

Good to see some things never changed.

"L." L responded, and immediately mentally kicked himself. He didn't know if there was another-

"L, huh? Odd name." Matt observed. Silence for a moment, then he seemed to notice someone else. "Guess you aren't the only one new 'round here." he added, nodding toward the male who had just appeared on the other side of the courtyard.

L followed Matt's gaze, and his eyes landed on the most unusually-dressed individual he'd ever seen. Black skinny jeans with perfectly circular white spots, Converse, an over-sized royal purple hoodie with some kind of design on the front, a slouch-type beanie, and sunglasses.

"Sunglasses inside... Seems like a douche." Matt muttered under his breath, before turning away. "I think I'll go see what he's made of. See ya 'round, L."

With that, the redhead put out his cigarette and bounded off.

L frowned. There was something off about the kid in the spotted pants, though he couldn't say what. And that's perhaps what bothered him the most about it - the fact that he couldn't put his finger on it.

* * *

Angel was doing his best to not draw too much attention to himself, but obviously he'd been doing a pretty poor job of it because in no less than two minutes after entering the courtyard someone came up to him.

Red hair, green eyes, orange goggles, red and white striped long sleeved shirt, boots, blue jeans. All this information was processed and filed away instantaneously. He was nothing if not efficient. His eyes, unbidden, flicked up to the area just above the boy's head. The green numbers - the numbers were always the same color as the individual's eyes - ticked away, second by second.

Angel almost let out an audible sigh of relief. Almost. The boy wasn't going to die today, or any time soon. Good. But it would still be best to not let his guard down, for the future is not set in stone, and anything could happen. The numbers were constantly changing from week to week. It was like every Sunday someone refreshed the page, and the updated numbers were there.

"You're new here, right?" the boy asked.

Angel simply nodded.

The redhead smiled wickedly. "How 'bout a little competition then, eh? I always did wanna try out a crossbow. Whoever hits the most targets wins." he suggested.

Angel rolled his eyes and shook his head no. "Better at hand-to-hand combat." he said, then motioned toward his sunglasses as a means of explanation.

A look of realization crossed over the kid's face, and a slight blush tinted his cheeks. Angel had to resist the urge to chuckle. He wasn't supposed to be able to see it, after all. "Ah... Sorry... I didn't..." the redhead fumbled.

Now Angel allowed himself to laugh. "No harm done. Now, why don't we get down to business, hm?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He figured he may as well give the boy a nickname. At least until he knew his name... or... nickname... or whatever.

The kid gaped at him. "But I thought...?" he murmured.

"I'm not deaf." Angel replied easily. "As long as I can hear, I can fight. C'mon, Stripes. Let's have a bit of fun." He waggled his eyebrows and scampered off to roughly the middle of the courtyard, Stripes lagging behind.

* * *

"You sure 'bout this?"

L was brought out of his thoughts by Matt's voice, and looked up to see the gamer standing a few feet away from the guy from earlier. His interest piqued, he let his attention rest on the two who looked like they were about to spar. "If I wasn't, then I wouldn't have suggested it." was the response. God did that guy sound like a smart-ass.

Slowly but surely, a crowd was gathering around the two. A blonde, clad in leather, came to stand beside L.

"Matt's gonna kick his ass." the blonde chuckled.

Mello.

L didn't have time to linger on the fact that Mello was standing beside him, though, because the fight had already begun. Well. Sort of.

Matt was hesitating, though in a fighting stance. The black-haired male was just standing there. L tilted his head slightly to the side, examining the other boy, when suddenly it dawned on him. Was the kid... blind?

Well, it would make sense, he supposed. That must be why Matt was so reluctant... Eighty eight percent.

Yes. It had to be that.

"C'mon, Matt!" Mello called. "You can beat this guy, easy!"

That seemed to be all the encouragement the redhead needed, and L allowed himself a small smile. Maybe not much had changed, after all.

* * *

Angel wasn't used to being the center of attention. The noises surrounding him, the people all around... It threw him off. Caused him to panic, just a bit.

He closed his eyes tightly, focusing on blocking out the sounds, the voices...

_Focus on your heartbeat..._ he thought to himself, and gradually all sounds faded away. Good. He was fine, he'd be fine.

He tentatively allowed sound back in, eyes still closed, and was glad he did at that moment. He heard steps rushing toward him, a fist flying through the air, and leaned back just enough to avoid being hit, then side-stepped Stripes' body. He'd dodge for now, nothing more. Simply wait... The rest of the fight went a lot like that, really. Angel didn't swing at the redhead, didn't open his eyes. Stripes landed a few punches, but nothing major. Finally, Angel had had enough of these games.

In one fluid motion, he dived down, ducking under a blow to the ribs in the process, and kicked Stripes' legs out from under him.

Before the kid even had the time to register what was happening, Angel had him pinned to the ground. A knee on Stripes' chest, a hand at his throat, Angel's other leg and hand keeping him from ending up on the ground himself. The victor allowed himself a look at the male beneath him. Now Stripes was breathing heavily, a tint of surprise in his wide green eyes.

Angel was perfectly fine, not worn out in the least. Then again, he hadn't been throwing himself around. After a short while, Angel stood, and extended a hand to help the kid up.

Stripes looked at it for a couple seconds, possibly somewhat shocked, before accepting the help. Angel heaved him up, and smiled brightly. "You did pretty well. I'm sure I'll have a bruise or two on my ribs come tomorrow. What's your name, Stripes?" he asked, cocking his head to the side much like a dog would.

"Matt." the redhead breathed out, obviously not fully recovered. "You?"

"Angel." he replied.

Stri- er... Matt seemed about to say something, when a hyperactive blonde practically just materialized beside him.

"Damn, Matt. Ya took a beating, there, man. It's not like you at all to hesitate like that, is everything alright?" the blonde gushed.

Angel took a step back, and Matt, noticing his awkwardness in the situation, thankfully calmed the blonde.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just didn't want to hurt him too bad. I'd feel terrible injuring a blind guy. Anywho. Mello, meet Angel. Angel, Mello." Matt explained.

Angel, just for the authenticity of it, stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mello." he said politely. The blonde's clock glowed a ghostly, ethereal blue.

Mello stared at his hand for a moment, before hesitantly shaking it. "Same to you... Angel." he responded, as if the name tasted weird on his tongue.

The silence was awkward, and Angel was glad when Matt - now that he thinks about it, he's probably just gonna stick with Stripes - broke that silence. Well... sort of glad. Kinda. Not really.

"Hey! L, get over here!" Stripes called, and waved over the person he was talking to.

Angel stopped dead, his head snapping up at the sound of the name, and his eyes floated to the guy. He instantly recognized the man, though the other male showed no signs of recognizing Angel.

L.

He's here.

L is in this world.

No.

L... died?

Tick.

Angel's eyes swiftly found the space above L's head, and he waited. Waited for it to come into focus.

Tock.

The numbers. He had to see the numbers.

Tick.

_Oh please God, please hurry up... _

Tock.

But the numbers never came.

Tick.

L Lawliet didn't have numbers.

Tock.

...

...

...Fuck.

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**Chapter One: Points Of Authority - _Complete_**

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Yes, I know, it's short. Painfully so. But this is basically just a test-run. Testing the waters and all that. As the story progresses the chapters will get longer, I promise you.

I hope you liked! :]

I'll do my best to respond to every review, so... Review? For Angel?

-Tyger


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